


I would be your wings if you carry my heart (or 5 times a Bird and a Fairy spent their night together)

by Cuits



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuits/pseuds/Cuits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’ve been longing for flying partner.”</p>
<p>Diaval smiles, his heart full of nightly wind and moonlight reflected on her gorgeous wings. “Then my Mistress, what are we waiting for?”</p>
<p>They swirl, spin, flight high, flight far and as they rise above the clouds entangled into a spiral upwards, Diaval realizes that he has never had a flying partner before either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would be your wings if you carry my heart (or 5 times a Bird and a Fairy spent their night together)

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to the ever lovely Dasku, for her beta work and her encouragement.

1.

 

The night of the day Aurora is born, there are green and yellow clouds all around the sky of the Moors. There is a sadness in the air that gets stuck between the feathers of his wings, an asphyxiating sorrow that paints of gray the fountains of the land and sends its creatures into a quiet slumber.

 

He finds her among the ruins where she was the first time he saw her and for the first time since that day, she doesn’t look glorious and magnificent but small and lost like a little mouse chased by a hawk.

 

Diaval lands by her side and doesn’t move a single one of his tingly muscles as he listens to her cry not knowing what else to do. Maleficent hugs her legs under her dark cape, her eyes closed, her pointy cheeks wet with tears as her shoulders slightly shake and Diaval waits for her to have need of him, to tell him what to do, if there is anything to be done at all.

 

“You don’t need to watch over me,” she says snapping her fingers in a greenish glow that instantly transform him into a bird with a human shell.

 

Her voice is soft as he shakes the uncomfortable feeling of shifting out of his body.

 

“I don’t need to caw around sleeping cats to annoy them either, but I surely do.”

 

Maleficent smiles a little, not with her mouth, of course not, but Diaval can see the small smile in her glowing eyes nevertheless. There’s no silence  —  there never is when he is in this human shell who breathes too noisily for it to be truly quiet  —  but there is not much noise either as they both look ahead, over the human kingdom and its castle, as if waiting for something dreadful to suddenly happen.

 

It’s hard for a bird to be quiet for this long, it’s hard even for a raven who looks like a man  —  even though he would admit to that a little less readily  —  but he makes the effort for her benefit; he would do far harder things for his Mistress.

 

“I used to have wings,” she says with the deepest sorrow and the sudden terror of going back to a raven form without wings runs along his spine like a pointy knife would do.

 

“I used to have wings and Stefan stole them to be king. He told me he loved me, he spoke of tales of true love and then he took a part of myself and never brought it back.” She leans against the remains of a stone wall and he can see new fresh tears run furiously down her face. “He has a kingdom and a queen, and now he has a child and I have nothing but this walking stick.”

 

Diaval has to take a deep breath to keep himself from crying too. There is little wonder now as to why all the creatures of the Moor are so shaken up and worried under the ever present pain of their protector. He experimentally flexes the fingers of his left hand a couple of times before stretching out his arm to put his palm softly over her right shoulder.

 

“You also have me, Mistress,” his human voice so much more tender and appropriate than a caw could ever be. “I’m not as precious as a pair of fine wings but I can be pretty special, myself.”

 

Maleficent looks at him and Diaval can see there the little gratitude and the small smile her mouth won’t dare to speak or show. 

 

They never speak again as the hours of the night go by and the sunset arrives. They look toward the castle and see as its lights go off in the distance, one or two at a time, little by little, as fast and as slowly as her tears dry and her stoic resolve takes their place.

 

When the first red, shy shininess of the new day greets them, he can feel the beginnings of a cramp in his shoulder and pins and needles all along his arm, but he doesn’t move his left hand from her shoulder, still clumsily comforting her as it will be till it’s time for them to leave.

 

 

2.

 

Aurora will be eight in barely two weeks but she is as sweet and as graceful as the day she came to live to the disastrous cottage. Her hair is as blonde but longer, her features just as beautiful but more grown up. What surely is different is the feverish redness of her skin and the difficulty she seems to take on every new breath.

 

“She is sick! She is very sick!” Diaval strides around Aurora’s bed in his human self, his inexperienced fingers running through his own hair. “Those three murderous sillies gave her spiders to eat for dinner! Spiders! Even a stupid dog would know better.”

 

Maleficent casts a spell on the three pixies as soon as she sets a foot in the dusty cottage, for them to sleep like the dead for the duration of the night and goes straight to Aurora’s side. She touches her forehead and carefully lifts her eyelids as Diaval continues with his nervous breakdown.

 

“She has been poisoned,” Maleficent says as calm as if she was talking about the upcoming weather.

 

“Of course she has been poisoned! Spiders, Maleficent!”

 

She lifts an eyebrow at the use of her given name but says nothing and he estimates that maybe he needs to calm down a little bit before his Mistress turns him into a low form of life, like a worm or a seagull.

 

“Well, I can’t take away the poison with magic but fortunately for the little beasty, I know the cure.”

 

He takes a stool and puts it beside the bed, sitting near little Aurora as his Mistress prepares the curative beverage in what at the cottage passes as the kitchen. He looks intently at the rise and fall of her chest, fearing that each one could be the last. His right leg doesn’t seem to be able to stop moving repeatedly up and down, stomping the floor, he bites the fingernails of his left hand though he isn’t hungry at all, and the right one crumples a spot of his trousers repeatedly. He is still a raven in many ways; if Aurora were a fledgling he would know how to try to comfort her but the rules and terms of endearment of humans are completely unknown to him.

 

Maleficent appears out of nowhere with a glass full of a crimson red liquid, puts her hand carefully at the back of Aurora’s head and lifts it barely enough so that the girl won't choke as she gives her the beverage, then she magically procures herself another stool and sits next to him beside the bed.

 

Maleficent strokes Aurora’s blonde locks, carefully, caringly, as the night keeps on going and they both wait for the fever to break and the cure to outpower the poison. Diaval finds his hands full of nothing but himself.

 

“Is it acceptable for me to take her hand?” he asks his Mistress almost shyly.

 

“Acceptable?”

 

“Appropriate. I’m not versed on the etiquette of circumstances such as this among humans.”

 

Maleficent doesn’t answer him, she rarely vocalizes words with him when she knows he can read them in her eyes, like she is afraid that someone else might hear them and figure out that her unbothered façade is but the varnish of all that she is. She silently takes his hand and puts it on top of Aurora’s little one, stroking the dorse of his hand for a brief moment before she tries to pull it back again, but he is a raven and even when he doesn't look like one his reflexes are bird-like fast and so he rapidly uses his free hand to catch Maleficent retreating one.

 

If she is surprised she doesn't say but she concedes and her hand stays there, under Diaval’s fingers on the bed, next to his other hand, still resting over Aurora’s. It remains there until the girl’s fever breaks and she opens her sleepy eyes.

 

“It’s you,” says Aurora groggily, “I knew you’d come.”

 

Maleficent’s facial expression never changes from the cold, stoic mask she is used to wear but she puts a hand over the girl eyes and murmurs, “shhh, sleep,” with such a tender voice that he fears his heart could break just  from hearing it.

 

There is little of night left and the spell on the three sillies will last just as long as it will take daylight to come.

 

“Is time for us to go,” she says and snaps her fingers altering his shape once again.

 

The sun rises behind the mountains and Maleficent walks across the forest with the help of her walking stick and the reverence of the roots and bushes that move away from her path and beside her, Diaval goes from one branch to the other, from one stone to the next. He refuses to fly away when she can not.

 

They make quite the pair: the fairy without wings and a raven that will not fly away. Maybe someone will care to write a comical song about them.

  
  


3.

 

Coronation day is coming to an end to give way to the coronation night. The little nymphets illuminate the river and the ponds with their magic and every plant, bush and tree of the Moor shines, adorned with fairy dust.

 

There is goblin music and an improvised ball which Maleficent seems to take as her cue to take a more discrete position at a vantage point and Diaval has no other option but to follow.

She has impressive wings now, soft and strong with feathers long and bright that are the most beautiful thing that the raven has ever seen, captivating as the glow and color of her eyes, desirable as the fullness and form of her lips or the appealings curves of her body. He wonders when he ceased to be so very raven to become this almost human. He wonders if it matters if all that he is is compatible with her.

 

“Look at that,” she says, and he has to tear his eyes apart from her to take a look at a teenage boy with a stern look upon his eyes approaching the new princess.

 

“Princess Aurora,” Philip says, and they can hear him because they are not far but merely above them. “I wanted to offer you my sincerest apologies,” and with that he makes a little bow as if to prove some point Diaval doesn’t care to understand.

 

She looks curiously at him, as curious as she ever looks at new things. “And could you enlighten me as the motive for such an offer?”

 

Philip blushes violently, so much so that it is visible in the dim light of the night from some distance above.

 

“I kissed you,” he says, “when you were sleeping.”

 

Diaval rolls his eyes and sighs and maybe even shakes his head a little, “Does he think that’s a good way to introduce himself to her?” he whispers for only Maleficent ears to hear. “It’s a wonder humans get to effectively mate.”

 

Maleficent smiles, not only with her eyes how she used to, but using all her beautiful mouth as well, as she gently nudges him.

 

Below them Aurora eyes go wide with shock and surprise. “Why would you do that?” she asks, and if she is feigning the offence in her voice Diaval would make her Queen of Acting as well.

 

“Everybody present was rather insistent on the matter,” tries to explain the teenager. “Something about the need of a true love kiss to break an enchantment.”

 

“But we barely know each other!”

 

“That’s exactly what I protested!”

 

On the protruding rock of the cliff, Diaval flinches. “Not our brightest idea, I must admit,” he murmurs.

 

“Neither the most effective,” Maleficent whispers back.

 

“Excuse me?” he asks perhaps a little too loud. “She is awake and you are alive. I say we were effective enough, Mistress.” Maleficent smiles placating his offence and they both look below to the hesitant young couple. “Besides, I see some interesting potential there.”

 

Aurora seems to be pondering the adequacy of her reaction. “You are forgiven,” she says at last with a slight inclination of her head, “if you swear to never do it again.”

 

“To kiss you?” Phillip’s voice sounds comically strangled and Diaval has to put a hand over his mouth so not to laugh out loud.

 

“No.” Aurora lifts her chin, the defiant look of a queen-to-be in her eyes. “To never obviate my will again.”

 

Philip smiles broadly and bows. “That, my princess, is a vow I’ll gladly swear,” and he offers her his hand for a dance that might be due but is still a little awkward.

 

The fairy lights shine on Aurora’s dress and make it seem to be changing colors as she turns and turns, from blue to pink to blue again.

 

“She is going to be a mighty queen,” Maleficent says, her hair shining, her relaxed smile making her even more beautiful.

 

“She had the best of mentors,” he takes her hand and looks at her in the eyes as he has done so many times over the years when the darkness has already fallen and there was no enemies near to be fought.

 

“Thank you, Diaval.”

 

“Oh I was talking about myself, Mistress.” He knows she can see the humor in his eyes but strokes the back of her hand with his human thumb nevertheless, “I’ve always thought I have a rather royal demeanor.”

 

Maleficent laughs, openly, happily, without a trace of vengeance or bitterness.  It is a sweet sound, the kind of sound a raven could never get tired of listening.

 

“Dance with me, Mistress,” his heart stomps with force. “I hear there is ball around here, somewhere.”

 

“You will surely step into my wings,” she spins just enough for her to also grab his until then free hand.

 

“I most certainly will not.” Diaval can see a different kind of glow in her eyes, “unless you shape me into a stupid dog again, then I can make no promises.”

 

He never stood a chance, a raven is always tempted my shiny things and nothing shines as bright as she does.

 

“Well, I don’t care much for dancing but I’ve been longing for flying partner.”

 

Diaval smiles, his heart full of nightly wind and moonlight reflected on her gorgeous wings. “Then my Mistress, what are we waiting for?”

 

They swirl, spin, flight high, flight far and as they rise above the clouds entangled into a spiral upwards, Diaval realizes that he has never had a flying partner before either.

  
  
  


4.

 

There is not a cloud in the sky that dares to hide the stars that illuminate the Moors at night. There is a cool breeze at the peak of the cliff, not enough for them to have to look for shelter but enough to run a chill down his human limbs from time to time.

 

They are sitting on the rock, their legs swinging in the abyss but her gaze is lost on the horizon and her expression reminds him of a time when there was a storm clouding her heart. 

 

“What is it, Mistress?” he asks with some concern.

 

But instead of answering his question or looking at him she keeps her eyes trained ahead and merely says. “You don’t have to keep calling me that anymore.”

 

“Aurora doesn’t have to keep calling you Fairy Godmother, nevertheless she does.”

 

Maleficent sighs, a deep, long intake of air that worries him more than a thousand words that she could say.

 

“Very well, have it your way.” She pauses but he says nothing. “I have a gift for you.”

 

“What a lucky bird I am, and it’s not even my birthday,” he says with just an inch of sarcasm. “Is it shiny?” he asks with the eyes of a clever bird, “You know how much I love shiny.”

 

“It is magical,” she whispers.

 

“Better yet.”

 

Maleficent brings her right hand up, her fingers dancing in a practiced pattern as a yellow glow grows from her palm. “To Diaval I grant the ability to follow his heart’s desire. Let him be raven when he might want to spread his wings and human when he chooses a pair of hands as a better fit.”

 

The magical glow surrounds him and impacts in his chest leaving him breathless for a moment.  Raven , he thinks and the familiar tingle of morphing runs through his back as his wings spread and he takes an experimental flight around her.  Human , he tries back, and his long limbs and his short nose return as he regains his seat on the rock next to her.

 

“And to what do I owe this honor bestowed upon me?” he ask with the tiniest bow of his head.

 

“You’ve been loyal to me all these years.” There is a strange sadness in her voice.

 

“I’ve been faithful to you all this years,” he declares defiant, daring her to misunderstand him on such an important matter.

 

“Faithful?”

 

She doesn’t sound surprised but the fact remains that she asks when Diaval thinks she should never less than assert.

 

“Of course, faithful. What have you taken me for? Human? Maybe an owl?” he scoffs not bothering to hide his indignation.

 

“I just always assumed that you had an… arrangement of your own.”

 

“An arrangement of my own?” he didn’t know his human voice could pitch this high when completely outraged. “Whatever for?”

 

“It’s been sixteen years,” her voice is low, her eyes never looking elsewhere but ahead.

 

“I know how to count.”

 

“And mating seasons have come and go.”

 

He is past offended now. He is so aggravated that he can’t begin to fathom where this conversation is suddenly coming from. 

 

“I don’t know what is taught among your species but there is more to mating than the means to procure descendants. We fed Aurora, we took care of and raised her together, lurking around the shadows of that forest, we shared our lives for years, I’ve always protected you from harm for as long and as well as my means allowed me.” If this is the first time he puts it into words there has been many, many times when he has spoken with everything else that he got. “Ravens take a mate for life and you are my mate, Maleficent. Don’t insult us both furthermore by pretending you didn’t know.”

 

Raven . He thinks, and he flies away from the cliff, his dark feathers blending into the shadows and grateful that birds are as strange to tears as fishes are to whirlwinds.

 

It is long past midnight when in human form he goes back to her tree. He sighs and takes a sit among its roots with his back to the trunk and looking over the Moor.

 

Maleficent is not asleep, she delicately descends from the branch where she usually rests. “You are back,” she says with her sweet voice.

 

Diaval kicks a stupid rock out of his sight. “Did you thought I wouldn’t be?”

 

She takes another step until she is on her feet beside him. “No,” she says and entangles a hand between his raven-like black hair. “You are my mate.”   
  
  


 

5.

 

She kisses him.

 

It is a clear night and the pond looked lovely when she suggested to take a bath. Diaval was not overly thrilled at the perspective of being completely surrounded by water but it’s the implication that they both would have to completely disrobe that tipped the scales in the aquatic activities favor.

 

His feet are assured on the rocks at the bottom of this part of the pond and the waterline plays with the skin of his chest when she approaches. Her wet skin shines under the moonlight like the most precious of metals and there is so much to look at that Diaval fears he would need several more pairs of eyes or a couple of lifetimes to take it all in; the way she smiles, the pond reflected in her eyes, her breast barely concealed under the water, her hair plastered against her shoulders…But the things that he can’t see are the ones that steal his breath away and kick the wit out of his brain; the heat of her warm skin when she gets close enough, the feeling of her slender arms around his neck, her breath, magical and sweet against his mouth…

 

She kisses him. Soft and sweet at first, until Diaval puts his hands over the curve of her hips and bring her closer to him effortlessly. There is an electric shock, a spark of something that lights within himself a strong desire he didn’t know he could feel.

 

Maleficent explores his mouth with her own, biting and licking his lips, sucking and caressing his tongue and he follows her lead as he has always done. His hands roam over her body; her thighs, her waist, her breasts, the exquisite end of her back and all along his body, the skin that her skin touches enlightens and becomes alive.

 

“If someone ever dared to enchant you,” he says between breaths, between gasps as her hands avance down his chest, down his stomach, “I could wake you up with a kiss.”

 

Maleficent laughs against his mouth, her hands around him between their legs.

 

“My pretty bird,” she says and with a swift movement her left thigh is over and around his hip.

 

She welcomes him within herself and the movement is instinctual, they way they gasp and grab at each other, how his clumsy hands touch and caress and pinch where she seems to appreciate it the most.

 

“I’m not versed on the etiquette of circumstances such as this among humans,” he says catching his breath while still moving, while still caressing her down past her stomach as her eyes close and her back arches.

 

“I’m not more human than you are,” she says punctuating with a gasp, and then she begins to shudder and tremble, all tense with her eyes closed as she forgets to breathe between his arms.

 

Later, after he has seen white light inside his eyes and his limbs have gone numb and sleepy, after they had both regained their strength and have made it out of the pond, even after her wings have completely dried off and they have both gone back to their sleeping tree, they lay in the net between the branches with the soft touch of Maleficent feathers enveloping them both.

 

“I guess I can understand now how humans are so prone of the means to procure descendants instead of taking efforts on the complexity of mating,” says Diaval.

 

“And you?”

 

“Well, I’m not more human than you are, isn’t it right, Mistress?”

 

Maleficent laughs and he can feel the vibration of her muscles all along his body. The Moor is at their feet with its ponds, its rivers and its sheer cliffs. He might not have a nest to call his own, he might not have fledglings to care and procure food with his beak for, but he has the best of flying partners and a pair of wings that keep him warm at night.

 

Nobody will ever convince him that he hasn’t chosen well his mate.   
  
  


 

+1

 

Aurora turns eighteen that day, the princess is now officially the queen and from the ruins over the cliff the castle seems to glow in the night with celebration and happiness.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” he asks.

 

Maleficent shakes a little her head but there is no trace of sadness in her demeanor. “No, there are still many who fear of me in that castle and we will see Aurora tomorrow anyway. We will celebrate with her then.”

 

“In that case I have a favor to ask of you.” his hand instinctively finds her and their fingers entangle.

 

“A favor? What could it be?”

 

“I want you to shape me into a dragon for the night.”

 

He is serious but she laughs like it is the funniest of jokes and the sound of her good humour echoes along the land.

 

“A dragon? Whatever for?”

 

“I would like if only for tonight that we could sleep with me embracing and protecting you with my wings,” he declares.

 

There is a single tear forming at the corner of her eye but she smiles so, so brightly. She takes a step towards him and puts her hands on both sides of his face and kisses him for so long that he fears she might have forgotten they were in the middle of a conversation, but she sighs over his lips and takes a step back, then with the most delicate snap of her fingers she whispers, “dragon.”

  
And so it is.


End file.
